


Survivors

by theroomstops



Category: Bodyguard (TV 2018)
Genre: Canon Rewrite, Emotional Hurt, F/M, Not Canon Compliant, Rating May Change
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-06
Updated: 2020-09-06
Packaged: 2021-03-06 15:54:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,668
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26311477
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theroomstops/pseuds/theroomstops
Summary: They’ve survived.Again.David and Julia return home after the bombing at St. Matthews.
Relationships: David Budd/Julia Montague
Comments: 27
Kudos: 141





	Survivors

**Author's Note:**

> Canon compliance level: 0% because I'm not Jed. So, I changed how the blast happened. David got to Julia before the bomb went off and pushed her to safety. Barely made it, but they're both alive.
> 
> \--- 
> 
> I've been nervous to post. I've missed writing, but I've been struggling mentally for a while and still am, and writing - even though it brings me such joy - has felt impossible for so long. Until this little thing trickled through. I struggle to read more than a few lines at a time without losing focus (the brain fog is real), so I don't know how many flaws there are in this, hopefully it's still readable and not a total waste. Please forgive me, I'm just finding my feet again and I hope someone out there enjoys this ❤️

One at a time. Careful. Each step unveils another ache, another pain somewhere on her person. Her body is heavy and her mind weary. She is tired, far beyond tired, but the dark and dimmed halls of The Blackwood Hotel, their home for the past two weeks and the keeper of their secrets, is a very welcomed sight. For a moment earlier today, she believed she might not see any of it again. 

The blast had hit her at her side, she could feel the pressure when she lay there, thrown to the ground and tucked under David’s body behind the stage just as the bomb went off. Piled under blue placards and fliers with her face on them, then slowly becoming covered by bomb dust. 

He’d saved her. Again. 

How he knew to run for her she doesn’t know, she hadn’t noticed anything frightening at all. It doesn’t really matter. He did run. Her eyes had met his as he stormed toward the stage, and for the first time since they met, she didn’t recognize his face. It usually calms her, just knowing he’s there. She knew it was him, but replaced by her mild mannered, stoic protection officer, her tender and unselfish lover, was a look of acute fear that she knows she might never forget as long as she lives.

Her ears have regained some sense of normality, or… at least it feels a little more normal now. David is two feet behind her, relieved of his duty to protect her and ordered to rest for the remainder of the day, and as far as anyone can tell, he seems to be in one piece. He mentioned some tenderness in his ribs, but the doctor that tended to them both gave the all clear. 

They’ve survived. 

Again. 

It doesn’t really seem real. None of it. Not that it’s the second attempt to end her life in as many weeks, or that she’s survived both. 

Every single nerve in her body feels cut open. Raw. Apparently on show to any of the numerous officials and medical personnel that’s danced around them both for the past few hours since it happened. Almost jumping on top of each other to be the one to provide what she needed. She couldn’t eat, barely sipped on some water in the hospital. Too anxious as they kept her updated on the number of casualties and wounded. Three people dead so far. And if she’s honest, too worried about David to focus on the tray of drab sandwiches they’d put in front of her.

She wants to scream. Scream until there is no more breath in her, and then go hide away under the safety of their white sheeted bubble. Far away from other people. She wants to personally find the people that did this, that tried to kill her and failed, but took the lives of at least three others in the process. To pursue justice for them, make something good out of something awful. Her mind is spinning with rage and yet exhausted at the very thought of doing anything at all.

It’s grown darker outside and mostly all she wants is to sleep. To forget this day happened. Maybe by some miracle she’ll wake up in David’s arms, kiss him awake and find it was all a horrible nightmare.

But at least she’s alive. Alive and walking home on her own two feet. And most importantly, far more so than her own safety, David is safe and sound, and walking in front of her as Tom follows behind them both. PC Tom Fenton requested to be assigned to her tonight in David’s absence. Hadn’t even bothered with going through the right channels, he’d just stood in front of her and asked. David had smiled gratefully from the bed beside her and so she quickly chose to take him up on his offer.

“I don’t want to be disturbed tonight. If anyone tells you to knock on this door, the sky had better be falling.” She stops in front of her door, allowing Tom to unlock and open it for her before he steps to the side. Just as David has for the past few weeks. Julia looks towards his room, his hand rubbing his forehead, his eyes shutting as he opens his hotel room door and steps inside. He still hasn’t said a word.

“I’ll make sure of it.” Tom assures her with a firm voice.

“Thank you, Tom.” 

“Rest up, Home Secretary. You’ll be good as new in the morning.” She finally manages to provide Tom with a tired smile. 

If only that were true. If only a good night’s rest _would_ cure how she felt. Perhaps take away the fear and exhaustion and guilt. If only some sleep would make them feel ok again. But they’re not ok. Neither of them are. And as became evident after last night, David hasn’t been ok for a long time.

Julia leaves her coat and bag on the sofa. Her feet feel too big for her shoes, but they finally slip off and land somewhere in the corner near the windows. A winded sigh escapes her, she tumbles a bit as she makes her way to the door opposite her bedroom.

She doesn’t bother knocking, just opens the door, and expects, or at least hopes, to find him waiting. It’s been a rocky 24 hours, even by their standards. He usually waits on his side of it, waiting for her with a bold smile, those beautiful blue eyes wide open and looking at her with charged excitement. But not today.

He’s facing away from her, almost hunched over, but she can tell immediately. The soft shakes of his upper body and the choked, panicked sobs as he tries to catch his breath in between tell on him. Her heart breaks for him. She’s never seen him cry, never seen him break, really. They’ve trained him too well. But how do you train anyone to withstand what he has now? How do you put the safety of someone’s life - her own - in his hands and expect them not to break after what they’ve gone through together? He seemed almost not human in the car that afternoon in October. Taking control swiftly, speeding away from danger like he was a regular James Bond. A super human.

Falling in love with David was never the plan. But the more she caught those occasional glimpses of humanity beneath his Bond-like exterior, the less power she had to stop herself. She walks closer, suddenly surprisingly light on her feet under the circumstances, until she’s standing in front of him. He looks up at her with tear stained cheeks and watery eyes, looking ever so small and broken before her. David stares and his lip quivers as more tears begin to fall.

She doesn’t think, nor ask for permission, though perhaps she should… she wipes the tears away as they come. Lovingly caressing his face before she pulls him close, drawing him to her. She leans down to kiss the top of his head as he shivers in her embrace until he finally lets go fully in the safety of her arms. 

She runs her fingers along his scalp, staining them with black soot as she traces his curls between them. Black dust remains of the blast that remind her they’re both still covered in dirt. The last time it had been blood. She doesn’t think she could stand the sight of David covered in blood again. Not now. Not when the thought of losing him hurts more than anything else. 

Julia’s lips press against his forehead. She’s gentle. Her breath is warm, almost comforting, and her lips so soft. And she doesn’t move an inch until he finally can feel himself breathing in a calmed, unstaggered rhythm again.

She kisses his head once more and then removes his tie. Unbuttoning the dirty shirt and removing his bulletproof vest carefully before she sits down on her knees in front of him. He looks at her gratefully. Smiling as best he can with his face full of dried tears, leaning down to kiss her for the first time today. He wasn’t sure he’d ever get the chance again. A bit hesitant until she sucks his lip between hers. Until she kisses him back harder, firmer. Until he knows it’s ok.

She knows exactly how to unbuckle this belt and unzip these trousers quickly at this point, and with a little effort, she’d managed to pull them off and leave them on the floor. She quickly divests herself of her own clothing, though he’s too exhausted to enjoy it, and holds out her hand for him to take. She doesn’t speak, not yet. There is no need. There is nothing to say yet. She seems to know what they need and has taken it upon herself to provide them safety and comfort now.

She leads him to the bathroom without a word, and is keenly aware of his watchful gaze on her as she begins to fill the bath tub with warm water. It’s a big tub, and he is covered in soot. She pulls his boxers off and throws them into a pile with her own underwear before swiftly turning on the shower.

The way the steam pressure hits her skin is delightfully hot. Washing away dirt and debris and the smell of it all, the smell of disaster, it all disappears down the shower drain the way she wishes the memory of it would too. 

He has never used shampoo this expensive, or this nice smelling either, and Julia lathers it generously through his hair before her own, and holds his hand underneath the water until the it washes away clear of suds. Kissing him as she rubs his body free from the dirt. Julia is generous with him, but he already knew that. Though he’s a form of tired he’s never been before, and if she wasn’t literally holding him up, he might fall over. 

She turns off the lights and decorates the tub with a strongly scented candle and one of the tiny bottles on the side. It makes the room smell of herbs and musk, until she seems adorably satisfied with her efforts and holds her hand out again. His turn first, apparently. It burns a bit, but it quickly turns a tolerable temperature and he pulls the rest of himself along and lies down amidst a mountain of bubbles. Breathing as he adjusts to the warmth of the water. 

And Julia, his still alive and beautiful Julia, walks stark naked around the room they sleep in together, pulling the heavy curtains shut and leaving a bathrobe on the counter. For him, he presumes. He’s worn it before in this room. He’s even wrapped her up in it. It seemed to swallow her whole on that first night. Yet now, lying there on the counter for him, it seems like a precious gift. The world outside has disappeared and what is left is only her. Julia Montague with her arms full of fluffy white textiles. She watches him thoughtfully, then places a towel beneath his head for comfort and kisses his wet hair before she smiles and turns to leave. 

He can’t let her.

David holds her hand until she’s safely in the tub with him. He wants to make room for her, but he can’t muster the strength to sit up, and she finds her place on top of him until they’re both covered in the light bubbles and warm water. Her head falls against his chest, kissing it lightly as cautious fingers caress the bruises beginning to form on his side. She can’t see them, but he can see the ones on her neck. 

The blast didn’t do that to her, _he_ did. He touches them for a brief moment and allows the fear to pass. They’re alive. They’ve survived and they’re here and she’s naked in his arms, so he’ll explain it all to her later. He’ll tell her all she needs to hear so she knows this wasn’t her fault. So she doesn’t blame herself and blames him and then leaves him, before he has a chance to…

They stay this way - entangled together in their herby, musky bath - until the water goes from hot to lukewarm. Breathing. Thinking. Not speaking, not even trying to. His arms wrapped around to keep her from slipping, his chest there for her to lean on. Caressing and kissing until the bubbles have gone, breaking down into nothing. Into milky residue. His tense muscles have relaxed in the heat and anxiety eased in the calm. He feels less half-dead and the smell of her shampoo makes him think of the good times they had before.

“I thought I was gonna lose you.” He finally speaks into the dead, warm silence, pressing kiss after kiss against her forehead as his fingers run along the length of her spine. “And I didn’t want to. It might have killed me to lose you.” He whispers. “I... I love you.” 

It’s a quiet admission. One she didn’t expect. Not tonight. Not even after her own confession to him earlier. _Before._

_The night had been confusing, her neck and knees still sore in the morning and bruised after what had happened. And she had stared at the finger shaped bruises on her neck as she got ready, trying to talk herself into finding a way to simply dismiss him, to let him go… but she couldn’t._

_She cared for this man. Loved him, even. To run away from him now would be a coward’s way and it would hurt too much. He couldn’t stay as her PPO, and they couldn’t keep up this charade any longer, she knew that. It felt too early to say the three words she’d barely ever said to anyone. She wasn’t in the habit of blurting them out, and she’d risk scaring him away. So she needed to make herself clear, without handing him her heart to crush._

She hums against his chest. She yearns to acknowledge that she’s heard him but doesn’t want to interrupt. He takes a pause. She can feel his heart thudding faster beneath her.

“I was still a bit in shock, after what you’d said... Not because I’m oblivious, I didn’t think this was just about the sex.” Julia stretches, pulling her buttocks beneath the water, holding on a little tighter. His hand glides along, swirling the water, warming her up. “Not for either of us.” His lips brush against her temple with aching tenderness and she pulls him closer. “I’ve got used to people walking away. It’s usually best if they do. Those I love always get hurt because of my actions. I hurt you. But you… you still want me. Why?”

“What kind of person would I be if I walked away from you when you need love the most?” She wonders if he notices her choice of words. He said it outright, shakily, but honestly… why can’t she do the same? “When I have hurt people too? You have an illness, David.” He looks away. Closing his eyes as he holds his breath. Julia nuzzles his jaw, waiting until he looks at her again. “You didn’t choose to hurt me, but I do choose to stay. If you want me.”

His body shakes again, this time with the softest of laughs as he looks down at her with sparkling blue eyes. “I want you.”

“Show me.” She whispers, lost in his eyes and his honesty. A small smile on her lips.

His lips find hers, pulling on the bottom one until she’s grown breathless. The water splashes over the edges as he begins to move around, turning them over in one swift move, trapping her underneath him, deeply immersed in the water. Warm and loved and safe. Still alive against the odds.

_To... be continued?_


End file.
